


Only Passion, No Regrets

by GuitarMoogle



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Office Sex, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuitarMoogle/pseuds/GuitarMoogle
Summary: Scarlet has a special assignment for a Soldier 2nd Class.
Relationships: Scarlet/Soldier 2nd Class
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Only Passion, No Regrets

They were alone in an office on the upper floors of the Shinra building and most of the employees had left for the night. The large windows revealed the city below them and the Mako reactors breathing green fire in the distance. A 2nd Class Soldier waited on his knees behind her desk. He was stripped bare to his chest, his armor and helmet lying neatly in a chair against the wall with his sword propped against it.

She stood in front of a cabinet on the opposite side of the room, uncorking a bottle of whiskey and pouring it into a lowball glass. She wore a long red dress with a high leg slit and black thigh high stockings whose lace tops peaked out as she moved. He studied her form with anticipation as she walked toward him, sat in the chair, and looked his body over. 

“You Soldier boys are so well built.” She crossed her legs and took a sip from her glass. He looked at her high heels.

“They’re red today,” he said. “They were black last time, weren’t they?”

“And so observant. But as much as I’d love to step all over you again, I’m very tired this evening.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

She lifted her leg and lifted his chin with the pointed toe of her shoe. He shivered at the touch of cold leather on his skin. “Show me those pretty eyes of yours,” she said. He looked up with his blue-green gaze and she exhaled with a smile. “Gorgeous.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She ran her shoe along his cheek and jawline. Her soft stockings occasionally rubbed against him in place of the firm leather. “I wonder which you like better,” she said. “The softness...” she dug her heel into his chest and he tensed his muscles in response “...or the sting.” She held her foot in front of him. “Take these off.” He slipped her shoe off slowly and she flexed and stretched her foot. “I told you I’ve had a long day.” 

“I’m sure you need a massage.”

“I’m sure you’d love to give me one.” She took another sip of whiskey leaving a glossy smudge on the rim of the glass. He removed her other heel and began to press his thumb into the sole of her foot. She pulled away from him and kicked the side of his head. Her expression turned cold. “I don’t recall asking you to touch me,” she said. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

She sighed. “I give you an inch and you want a mile.” She traced her toes along his collarbone then down to his chest. The soft lines she drew gave him a pleasant chill and brought goosebumps to his skin. Her smirk returned. “I’ll let you make it up to me. Kiss my stockings.”

“Yes ma’am.” He held the sole of her foot in his hand near the heel. He kissed along the arch and across her instep letting his lips brush against her. He moved up her ankle, taking in the scent of her stockings. 

“Do you like how soft they are?”

“I love it,” he said between kisses. 

“Use your hands as well.”

He placed his free hand on her calf and squeezed with a gentle pressure as his lips made their way up her shin. Her smirk widened. Another sip of whiskey, another satisfied sigh. She began to rub her finger between the lapel of her dress and her chest.

“You’re very good,” she said. “You’re making your director so proud of you.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

As he kissed over the top of her knee he took the hand from her foot and held the back of her thigh. He had her leg in a full embrace now. He kissed and kissed, working his way to lace pattern at the top of her stocking. He felt the top side of her foot between his legs.    
  
“You’re certainly enjoying this.” she teased. His kiss reached across the borderline to her skin and she pushed his head away. She ran her fingers through his dark hair. “Don’t get too excited, now. A soldier has to pace himself.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

He looked at her legs as she pulled her dress fully aside. She opened her knees wide. She beckoned him with her finger and he heeded her call. He was between her legs and her thighs were inches from either side of his head now. He felt a warmth radiate from her and the air became more humid. 

“I trust you can handle this.” Her hand was caressing his hair again. His breathing was heavier and his skin warm to the touch. 

“Of course.”

She wrapped one leg around him and pushed his face forward. Satin was soft against his lips and he could feel her curls beneath it. “Give me more of those kisses,” she said. He obliged. She rocked her hips back and forth. She tugged at his hair. She rubbed her feet against his back. He teased her for a bit and she pulled the silky material aside. “Now finish the job,” she moaned. 

He eagerly went to work, finally tasting her skin with no barrier between them. He was in the heat of the fire that he’d only felt the warmth of earlier and she held his head tighter and tighter between her thighs. She arched her back in the leather chair and pressed her hips further and further forward. He felt the strength of her climax, before she finally let her legs fall limp and loosened her grip on his hair. 

She sat in her chair, strands of hair slightly wet, sweat running down her half exposed chest. He lay between her open legs resting his head on her thigh as she stroked his hair. 

“Another fine performance from Soldier,” she told him. “You boys never let me down. Why can’t the military be more like you?” 

“It was a pleasure.”

“You need to get going now.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

He stood up and walked to the chair against the wall. As he got dressed, she traced her fingers around the area where his lips had last been. She took the last sip of her whiskey, stood up and walked around the desk. He watched her through his helmet's visor. She took a cigarette from a wooden box and picked up a gold lighter next to it. She sat against the edge of the desk and lit it. Shoes off, dress wrinkled, chest gleaming with sweat behind crossed arms holding a cigarette beside her face. 

“I expect to see you again soon,” she said. “Tell my ottoman to get in here when you leave. I need to put my feet up.” 


End file.
